


Acid trip

by ThefanderfamILY



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: A whole lotta love, Age Difference, C137cest, Clubbing, Dancing, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Incest, Inspired by the song Mad As Rabbits but not a songfic or even similar to the song for that matter, M/M, Morty being sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, possible underage, referenced alcohol abuse/alcoholism, rick being sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-10 15:22:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20853971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThefanderfamILY/pseuds/ThefanderfamILY
Summary: Rick and Morty go out for a night on the town.





	Acid trip

**Author's Note:**

> Sudden burst of inspiration, so uh here you go!

He asks during an arguement- out of the blue. The most inappropriate time to be thinking about something irrelevant, Rick knows. It just slips out, aided by the alcohol and other narcotic substances coursing through his frail old veins. Morty is taken off guard. So is Rick, in all honesty. They're both even more surprised when Morty can't help but accept. The arguement dulls after that. What more is there to say? It was dumb anyway, they realise. Morty's excited now. Rick too, maybe. A night on the town. Dancing- maybe dinner, too. Like real lovers. Real, not-so-fucked up, completely unrelated by blood, entirely from this dimension lovers. And even if they aren't that, it sounds damn fun to pretend. And so they save the date.

Morty expects nothing of Rick. He's learned to do so- that way he can stay surprised. High standards are a luxury the Smiths cannot afford. He doesn't expect an old fashioned suit. Doesn't expect a reservation. A bottle of champagne, even. Morty would love for Rick to be sweet. For a compliment on his outfit. For stolen kisses in the car on the way there- and maybe, just maybe, a half-awkward 'can I kiss you?' in hushed tones. Morty genuinely, truly expects none of this. 

Rick, of course, manages to top Morty's fantasies. A dinner reservation for the couple, a tailored suit that manages to make his sinewy form all the more attractive, the promise of dancing after Morty has had something to soak up the alcohol to come, and sweet, hushed promises of things the young man would never have dared dream for. It's some sort of acid trip, he knows. Does he care? Nope.

The dinner is romantic, for lack of a better word. They do it the right way. Not the Rick and Morty way, for once. It's foriegn on Rick's tongue, much like the atmosphere of new planets in far away galaxies. Foriegn and good. Better than good. Great. He's not with his grandson at this table for two. He's with the love of his life- and treating him right hurts so much less than pushing him away. He thinks he's drunk, but for once, he's entirely sober- And he fucking loves it. 

They make their way to the club hand-in-hand, googly-eyes and content sighs galore. Morty thinks aloud. Says whatever comes to mind. He feels free. He doesn't keep that to himself, either. Rick Sanchez, closed-off as he is, listens with an irregularly soft smile. He doesn't have to say anything for Morty to understand. He's an open book- and if it's only for tonight, that's fine. Morty knows now that Rick loves him as much as he does. He fights back tears at the realization.

The club is surging, pulsing heat. It's bodies against bodies and liquor in Morty's throat. A glass of water for Rick. He gets teased, yes, but it's worth it to see that look of adoration, completely unhindered on his grandson's face. No, not grandson tonight. His lover's face. Soulmate's face.

There's pressing against bodies and arms gliding over skin and hair slicked back with sweat but Morty can only focus on Rick. They wordlessly communicate their need to be alone. The real world has been fun. Rick and Morty can't take it all that much, and that's perfectly fine with them.

It's slow and soft in Rick's bed. A dozen kisses, a myriad of caresses, a lifetime worth of murmured I love yous. It gets to the point where the tears won't stay back, but that's alright. They fall asleep like that. Holding, kissing, smiling, crying. Utterly safe and content in each other's embrace. 

It's some sort of acid trip, they know. 

But they're Rick and Morty, for fuck's sake. 

Do they care?

Nope.


End file.
